yorisou
by Yui Miyamoto
Summary: Fuji and Tezuka play a staring match in Fuji's dream… (Note: shounen-ai)


**Fandom: Prince of Tennis / Tennis no Oujisama**  
 **Title: yorisou.**  
 **Pairing: Tezuka x Fuji**  
 **Rating: pg**  
 **Description - Fuji and Tezuka play a staring match in Fuji's dream…**

 **Disclaimer - Tennis no Oujisama / Prince of Tennis isn't mine, but the poem is.**

These eyes have told me  
'Save me, save me' many times…

…until we'll both drown.

 **yorisou.**  
 **By miyamoto yui**

I play the koto while you sit on the opposite corner of this four-cornered sanctuary which I call heaven. You love to spite me and call it hell.  
Simply, I smile contentedly as the moon shines in through the railings enclosing us within their modest privacy, only spaces of air breathing through the divided windows. I nod my head slightly. I can feel the red-orange stained kimono barely draping off of my shoulders and I continue to play with my fingers plucking the difficult, rigid strings until there's nothing left to feel, but to bleed by ear.

Playing, playing…  
My lips curve and my gestures seem coquettish despite our distance and tension.

Faster and faster, I feel possessed and I gasp while your silence is so strong that it is longer than the violent, convulsive, and crimson notes that come from the touch of my own white fingers. My head points upwards and towards the moonlight.

Despite everything, my eyes are still closed.

But that doesn't mean that I don't know what you're doing.

You have your arms crossed as you watch me with no discrimination between an artist's incomparable inclination for beauty or the unhealthy, compulsive, indecent perversity leaning towards clothed voyeurism. Those scrupulous eyes that have simulated every impertinent, purposeful detail in a matter of minutes between them, are watching me with their outward impassivity.

So, why, after all this time, have they patiently stared at me with that seemingly repressible thirst?

Drip, drip, drip…  
Like a sharp, small needle, I feel little ink blots flow out of me in whatever direction. My fingers play a melody of entropy that I can't ever express in words, but feel throughout my shivering body. I shake my head slightly as if in some elegantly timed seizure as beads of sweat pour down my wax-like face.

I can hardly breathe.

You don't have to softly strangle me with your meticulous fingertips to make me feel like my body is being sucked of all its air.

Your eyes do that already.

Hatefully.  
Flawlessly.  
Thoroughly.  
Lovingly.

Sadistic and masochistic in their affection…

Smiling wider, I become more entranced between your conceited attention towards me and the song that emerged out of my caged flesh wrapped carefully by the cloth you bought with your own blood-red hands.  
Your sword is left at the entrance, but that doesn't mean you can't kill through other means.

As if I had run a thousand times through the boundaries of this district or even around the restraining walls of this building where I hide, I pant and gasp while waiting for the opportunity to breathe between those admonishing eyes that make me react so adversely...

Ting.

Instantly, I stop playing.  
Laying one hand carefully over the koto, I raise the other hand as best as I can to my lips.

My mouth becomes a line as my eyes slightly open in seriousness and a bit in anger. My words and my eyes dart towards your stoic figure.

"Why…" I barely, yet firmly demand, "…why do you come here?"

You look at me with an unchanged expression. Your lips do not open to say a damn thing.

And it is in that exact moment that I understand why I keep on coming back to this very room. Why I bother to play such a deplorable role for the wicked demons of my mind and pathetically return to a place that never changes its status or furnishings for the two people who occupy it without reserve, without logic, without an end.

Why I even go out of my way to please the indomitable captain whose manner is as harsh as that of a blacksmith creating a katana from scratch…

However, that is just it.

He appears to be in such an admirable position, but he chips away at everything around him, never being able to harness anything of himself. Always forgetting himself, he will soon not be remembered by others. They will not recall what he has devoted his life to make such a solid foundation for with all of his effort, love, and sacrifices.

This person always doesn't say a word of offense or in his own defense.

I wake up from my dream, but I don't forget it. It stays engraved inside a place within me that I never wish to show to anyone. Not even him.  
Throughout tennis practice, I run laps without complaint even though it was Momo and Kaidoh's fault and drink Inui's juices without wincing. I continue to do as I always have with those eyes that never look at me in favor.

Thinking and being enraptured in my dream of being his geisha, I smirk to myself while avoiding his eyes. I only offer comfort, do I? But even I would feel guilty if I looked into those eyes right now.

Those eyes which carry the expectations of everyone around him and his own…  
I understand because this burden, though I do not show it to anyone, is also mine in my own life.

Because you cannot do it, I will.  
I will smile for you, Tezuka-buchou.

And it isn't because I am strong or anything of that stereotypical sort.

Above everyone, I want to see you squirm. I want to see you lose your cool. I want to wrap my fingers around your neck and kiss you while one hand goes up your shirt without holding back.

I want you to be mortal.  
I want you to be human.

To see with my own eyes that you can bleed, cry, and feel pain like the rest of us without just knowing that you have the ability to do all these awesome things.

As much as I would love to shatter your mind with my imposing, subtle, yet calculated questions,

I wouldn't be able to bear it, Tezuka.

As everyone leaves and we are left sitting on the bench of the locker room, I pull your head to lean on my shoulder. I kiss you as you hold onto me desperately though you do not utter a word of your countless worries.

Humans are funny things, aren't they?  
We protect others with our selflessness while our souls are eaten away with just and unnecessary reasons. But isn't it so scary and wonderful that we have the power to murder and suffocate what we consider the most valuable in our ephemeral lives?

And so…

No, I don't want anyone else to see.  
I don't want anyone else to know what I know.

Not even Echizen whom you seem to favor so quietly, yet lavishly.  
Especially him…

Even if you break,  
I want it to only be with and for me

because I would do anything for you…

Anything.

Like at the end of that dream, I wrap my arms around you tighter than ever before.

I don't care if you don't have any reason to keep me.  
I don't care if you never answer me at all.  
I don't even care if you will never need me again.

Just don't ever look away from me, Tezuka.

I whisper in a temptatious, breathless manner into your ear,  
"Yorisou."

Your soul is the price you pay for such services.  
Itadakimasu.

 **Owari.**  
 **-**  
 **Author's note:** This fic came totally out of nowhere, but I guess it wanted to be created. And so, here it is with all its psychotic love towards this couple. I had fun with the multi-layering.  
Though I haven't watched 174 yet, I wanted to say thank you very, very much Strawberry777-san~! This fic is dedicated to you! I hope you enjoy it.

As weird as it is, I really like this one~!

Love,  
Yui

Translation:  
yorisou - lean on someone, draw near to someone (physically)

Thursday, March 10, 2005  
5:48 AM


End file.
